


What Kind of Payday Has It Been?

by celli



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: sga_flashfic, Gen, challenge: documentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-21
Updated: 2006-01-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:08:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On which of the seven thousand little forms I had to fill out did I misspell Rodney I. McKay?  None of them, that's how many."</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Kind of Payday Has It Been?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://barely-bean.livejournal.com/)**barely_bean** for the beta.

"They got my name wrong," Rodney said, throwing himself down onto the couch. John raised an eyebrow as Rodney swung his muddy boots onto the arm of the couch, but he was thankfully not yet his father, so he left it at just the eyebrow.

"On what?"

"My nameplate. My business cards. My _paycheck._ " Rodney flopped further. "On which of the seven thousand little forms I had to fill out did I misspell Rodney I. McKay? None of them, that's how many."

"Of course not." John didn't say, he didn't even think, anything about Rodney's handwriting.

"At least the military, for all its sins--and it had many--checked these things. Also, I didn't need a nameplate on most of my top secret projects."

"Good point." John started to get up.

"And! And!"

John sat back down.

"When I took my paycheck to the bank to deposit it--how long does it take to set up direct deposit, I ask you? It's a dozen keystrokes--the bank put a hold on it."

"They put a hold on it?"

One of Rodney's hands flailed above the couch. "My account is flagged for a suspicious _lack_ of activity in the last five years. I have to wait a week before the funds are available. A week!"

John forced a straight face. "Need a couple of bucks to get you through the next few days?"

"Shut up. Like it couldn't happen to you."

" _I_ have direct deposit, Rodney."

That gesture? Not a flail.

Rodney's muttering was painfully clear on the important words--"back to Earth," "private sector," "people with 'consulting jobs' making fun of honest working Canadians."

"I'm going to leave you here to complain for yourself and call for dinner. Pizza okay?"

"Fine. Fine." Rodney crossed his arms. "Just tell them to deliver it to Rodney Maaaaackay."


End file.
